a bird in the hand
by Nearing Midnight
Summary: Aziraphale helps Crowley with an unusual favour.


Not long after the unfortunate incident with the flaming sword, Aziraphale, on one of his final patrols in the Garden, came across an unusual scene.

He heard it first; something rustling and rolling about in the bushes, emitting a constant, high-pitched sound like steam escaping a leaky pipe. While alarming, it was also vaguely familiar. Almost like… hissing. Keeping an eye on the bushes, Aziraphale approached cautiously, though he suspected he already knew the source of the commotion.

His suspicions proved to be correct. Said source, awkward and gangling in his new human corporation, sat cross-legged in the grass behind the bushes, grappling with something in his lap while a steady stream of snarled blessings escaped through his clenched teeth. If Aziraphale didn't know better, he would've thought the being before him was wrestling with a sort of diminutive, particularly vicious animal. As it was, he had once seen Crowley practically burst into tears at the sight of a duckling that was "just too damn _small_", so that scenario seemed unlikely.

"My dear?"

Crowley jumped, swiveled around, and promptly fell over when he was forcibly reminded that he now had legs. The thing he'd been struggling with slipped from his hands, bounced once, and rolled to a stop at Aziraphale's feet.

"Angel!" Crowley yelped. "What in Hell's name are you doing here?"

"My job?" Aziraphale said tartly, raising an eyebrow. Crowley had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry. It's just — I thought you'd been reassigned, given your, er, new position."

"I'm still waiting for Head Office to process my papers before I leave. And you can call it a demotion, my dear. It is the truth, after all." Aziraphale squinted at the round, red object sitting innocently before him in the grass. He really ought to have a word with management about this corporation's short-sightedness. "What's this?"

"Nothing," Crowley said hastily, making a grab for it. Aziraphale easily blocked his flailing arm and stooped to pick the object up. With its firm, smooth surface and distinctive shape, it fit snugly in his palm in an all-too familiar way.

"An apple?"

"What about it?" Crowley's voice took on a defensive edge. "Can't a demon grab a bite to eat without being accosted by angels at every corner?"

"I saw what you were doing just now, and it was decidedly _not_ eating," Aziraphale pointed out, amused. "Not unless they've gone and changed up the terminology again without telling us." **[1]**

[**1:** That had certainly been an eventful meeting. He'd half-expected to witness a second coming of the Fall, given how red Gabriel's face had become.]

Crowley sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I _am_ eating it. Or trying to, at least. I just can't split the blasted thing in half the way I want it."

"Couldn't you simply…" Aziraphale mimed taking a bite out of the apple, with a distinct sense of déjà vu. Crowley scowled at him and snatched the apple back, this time successfully.

"Of course I can. I just don't _want_ to," he snapped. He braced the apple against his knee with both hands and recommenced his wrestling-with-a-small-animal-but-not-really routine, and finally Aziraphale understood — Crowley was trying to break the apple apart using only his bare hands.

"You know," Aziraphale said mildly, "you might have better luck if you used a dagger."

"And whose fault is it that we don't have one anymore?" Crowley shot back, blessing again when he lost his grip on the fruit's slippery surface.

Well, _really_. Aziraphale considered lecturing him upon the differences between daggers and flaming swords, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Crowley pried at the apple in vain. It didn't so much as creak.

"I don't see why you can't just eat it normally."

With a curse, Crowley cast the apple back into the grass and drew his knees up to his chest, like a man-shaped creature who desperately wanted to coil into a defensive huddle but was impeded by the presence of too many limbs. He muttered something under his breath. Aziraphale leaned forward.

"What was that, dear?"

"I _said_ I don't like it when the juices get all over me," Crowley snapped, coiling up tighter. "It's sticky and unpleasant and bits of apple get stuck in my teeth. This corporation is a damn sight better than crawling on my belly all the time, but at least as a serpent I didn't have to deal with all those… _liquids_." He shuddered and turned away. His shoulders drew up defensively, as though he was expecting ridicule.

Crowley only looked up again when Aziraphale stepped forward without further comment and plucked the apple up from the ground. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," Aziraphale said simply, giving the fruit a scrutinizing look. Crowley uncoiled himself and raised an eyebrow. Yellow eyes flickered towards the noticeably empty sheath at Aziraphale's belt, then at those warm brown angelic hands, plump and soft, with immaculately manicured nails.

"Thought you'd get in trouble for doing frivolous miracles," Crowley said.

Aziraphale sniffed. "What, a miracle for such a small thing as this? Not at all necessary." Giving the apple a final once-over, he positioned his hands just so, flexed his fingers experimentally, tightened his grip, and with a sudden sharp _twist_…

Crack. The apple snapped cleanly in two halves. Crowley's jaw dropped, a little further than what was possible for human anatomy.

"There we go. And close your mouth, just a little." Aziraphale dropped the two halves of the apple into Crowley's hands, ensuring that none of the juices touched his skin. Crowley jumped a little, eyes wide. Aziraphale patted his shoulder. "My apologies, dear. You know I'm rather fond of your snakish form, but I don't want you to get in trouble for alarming any humans on accident."

"That's not what I—how in the—you—_grk_?" was Crowley's strangled response. Aziraphale tutted and miracled up a water skin to stop the demon's sputtering. If his superiors asked, he would simply say he was lending a helping hand to a snake in the garden.

* * *

**A/N: Inspired by the time I tried (and failed) to break an apple in half using only my bare hands. **

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are always much appreciated. :)**


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